


Moonbeam Cascade

by twuke



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6602458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twuke/pseuds/twuke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You feel the tranquilty? Immerse yourself in it."</p><p>Bokuto moved his head, gracing Akaashi's leg with his lips. He closed his eyes and kissed him on the thigh, smiling when he felt Akaashi slightly arch his back under his touch. </p><p>"I want to immerse myself in you." he said drunkenly, hugging Akaashi tighter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonbeam Cascade

**Author's Note:**

> This was kinda prompted by my dear mother who took one savage look at a picture I had on my phone of Akaashi and told me he looked like a poet, lmao. 
> 
> Sorry if the format is weird or inconsistent, I just copy pasted this from the notes in my phone. Anyway, please enjoy!

Akaashi sat cross-legged on the daybed with an open notebook in his lap, an ink pen in hand, and a bottle to dip in next to him on the nightstand. It was raining, June gloom, the moisture in the air trickled down outside the darkened bay window of the tiny apartment.

Bokuto watched him, came to do so every Friday when the bars closed at two and the restlessness in his bones still wasn't settled. The fragrance from an incense stick Akaashi had lit earlier perfumed the air, the faint scent of wood and lapsang souchong engulfed Bokuto, the smokey smell of it making him drowsy.

Bokuto sat on a floor cushion. He drank ginger tea spiked with cognac out of a white porcelain cup, the rim of it painted gold.

He was a little buzzed.

The quiet brush strokes Akaashi made in his notebook were mesmerizing and Bokuto listened to it while he sipped his drink, watching attentively when Akaashi's wrist flicked delicately, guiding the pen when he wrote. It made him flush red, the way Akaashi was so effortlessly graceful, how beautiful he looked sitting with his back illuminated by the three-quarter moon. He wanted to tell Akaashi that, wanted him to know the kind of feelings he envoked in him, but he knew the words wouldn't ever come out the way he wanted them to, that they wouldn't sound anyway near as poetic as they did in his head.

He started to fidget, knew he wasn't supposed to; Akaashi only let him stay if he were quiet, if he didn't disturb his artistic process. He had had no idea what that meant the first time Akaashi had told him that, but now he understood. Having watched him do it for months, Bokuto finally understood what it meant.

The first time he had seen Akaashi sit in his silk kimono with his back to the bay window, had been two months ago. He had been very drunk and very lonely. Kuroo had gone home, done for the night, and Bokuto hadn't felt like doing the same. He had stumbled his way to Akaashi's apartment complex instead, and called out for him until he had come down.

He had been stunned. The sight of Akaashi had rendered him speechless. He had looked ethereal as he stood in the stairway, clutching the kimono to his body, skin obviously bare underneath.

"Bokuto-san, my neighbors will think we're having a domestic dispute. Please, quiet down."

He had invited Bokuto in and served him cold boiled water with slices of lemon in a tall crystal glass, fed him crackers to sober him up.

Bokuto had noticed the notebook on the daybed when he had been left alone in the room. He had flipped through it with roused curiosity, and had found it to be a collection of handwritten poems, haikus and waka, symbols he didn't recognise, words he didn't understand.

It had all been very intriguing.

"Akaashi, did you write these?" he had asked, holding out the notebook for Akaashi to see in the other room.

"I did, yes," Akaashi had said when he came back in the room, his cheeks tinged a slight pink.

Bokuto had asked him a lot of questions, most of which Akaashi had answered without much belligerence.  
That night he had learned of Akaashi's love for words, and the names of some of his favourite authors. He had listened to Akaashi recite lines from his favourite poems, entranced and wide-eyed, the feeling of newfound fervor spreading throughout his being. He had never heard Akaashi talk so much before, had been spell-bound by the sound of his voice.

At five in the morning, Bokuto had left the apartment in a daze, the smell of cedar wood and black tea leaves following him all the way home.

He had brought Akaashi flowers every week for the past two months, as a way of apologizing for showing up drunk and unannounced.

He had bought chrysanthemums earlier that day before he went out, white with yellow blooms.

Akaashi had arranged them with the eucalyptus branches Bokuto had gotten him the week before. They stood in a tall glass vase on a small black-lacquered wood table in the room with the bay window.

 

"You know, Bokuto-san,"

Startled, Bokuto looked up. Akaashi had put his ink pen down and rested his head in his hand. His sleepy blue eyes regarded Bokuto in a placid manner and he gestured toward the white flowers with a tilt of his head.

"You don't have to buy me any more. You have surprisingly good taste though, so it's not like I mind, but I imagine it's been quite expensive."

Bokuto shook his head, the abrupt motion making the liquid in his cup spill over the brim and drip down his hand.

"Not at all!" he sputtered. "I know the florist, so I get a discount!"

The hint of a smile showed itself on Akaashi's face, but Bokuto didn't notice it. He was too busy trying to mop up the spilled drink with his sleeve, cheeks warm with embarrasment, so out of character.

When he looked up again, Akaashi had closed his eyes and had shifted on the daybed. There was a pleasant flush on his face from the brandy, his inky black hair shone almost white in the moonlight.

Bokuto took a sip of his drink, careful not to spill any more, and savored the tangy flavour of ginger on his tongue. He leaned forward on the cushion, closer to Akaashi, and studied his face. That may have been inappropiate, but Bokuto was tipsy and fascinated by the way Akaashi looked almost seraphic.

He had been beautiful since the first time Bokuto had laid eyes on him, but in a different way. Akaashi had been unaproachable to some, his beauty too fine, like the edge of a very sharp knife. Two months ago that changed for Bokuto. He started seeing Akaashi in a different light after he had spent the night listening to him talk about poetry and watched him write down verses.

His beauty had shifted in Bokuto's mind, no longer the dangerous type but the kind that overwhelmed him. How could anyone be so effortlessly beautiful?

With his motoric skills weakend by the alcohol, Bokuto reached out with his free hand to touch Akaashi's face. He ran his thumb over Akaashi's brow bone, watched his eyelids flutter when he opened them.

"Akaashi? Hey, hey, did you fall asleep?" He kept his hand where it was, felt Akaashi's hair on the tips of his fingers.

Not one to easily startle, even in his sleepy state, Akaashi simply leaned in to Bokuto's touch. He apologized for drifting off, the words leaving his mouth in a soft drawl.

"It's okay," Bokuto said, wide-eyed. "I haven't seen you doze off before. What's wrong? Can't hold your liquor?"

The way Akaashi looked at him made him giddy. His heavy-lidded eyes the colour of slate were blown almost black in the dim light. He frowned down at Bokuto.

"Normally I'd drink it with coffee," he said flatly. "But I figured it could be lethal to serve someone as energetic as you caffeine."

The bored tone of voice did nothing to slice Bokuto's esteem. He leaned back on the cushion and laughed his normal hoot, startling. Akaashi seemed unfaced.

"Tea has caffeine in it!" he said, beaming up at Akaashi.

"This is ginger tea. It doesn't have as much."

"I can't believe you're tired! You seem like such a night owl!"

"Bokuto-san, you're too loud."

Akaashi leaned back and regarded Bokuto with a sleepy bland expression. The silky robe he wore slid up his thighs, his milky white skin winking at Bokuto. The cold moonlight lit up his silhouette, and Bokuto wanted to reach out and touch him again.

"Akaashi, you're so pretty." he said, fidgeting in his seat. He wanted to say something else. Pretty wasn't the right word to describe him.

Akaashi frowned at the gratuitous compliment. He seemed almost embarrassed by the sudden proclamation, but Bokuto didn't care. He was bolder than usual, drunk from the cognac and the heavy incense that burned in the windowsill.

He reached out and grabbed Akaashi's hand, felt the dry grainy surface of skin against his own.

Surprised, Akaashi let him twine their fingers together.

"Are you alright?"

Bokuto squeezed his hand.

"I want to kiss you." he admitted, blaming the moon for his audacity, three-quarters, a traitor's moon. He didn't think about the repercussions of that statement.

"Bokuto-san..." Akaashi looked down at him, brows slightly furrowed, but he didn't let go of Bokuto's hand.

"You're so beautiful, sometimes I think you can't be real."

"That's ridiculous," Akaashi muttered. "I'm right here, tangible." He squeezed Bokuto's hand as if to prove his point.

The rain quickened outside, came down harder against the bay window, and Bokuto leaned in, his face dangerously close to Akaashi's.

"Would you kick me out if I kissed you?" he asked, sluring the words a little. They were so close, he could smell the sweetness of the brandy on Akaashi's breath.

He felt his dejected mode kick in when the grip on his hand loosened, Akaashi untwining their fingers.

Then he felt Akaashi's hands brush against his jaw, cool fingers cradling his head. "I wouldn't." Akaashi whispered, his lips ghosting close to Bokuto's own.

He closed his eyes and let Akaashi's soft voice lull him into reverie.

A line from a poem came to mind.

 

> I pull the kimono down around your shoulders  
>  and kiss you.

He reached out and did just that, peeled the silky robe off Akaashi's shoulders, letting it pool around his hips.

Akaashi glowed in the singed moon, exquisite, overwhelming.  
When Bokuto kissed him he tasted charmingly sweet, delicate and tingly like spicy ginger.

He wrapped his arms around Akaashi's middle, rested his hands behind his naked back.

Akaashi smiled against his lips, the sensation sublime. When Bokuto pulled back it was with short breath and red cheeks, the smile on his own face tugging at the corners of his eyes. He kept his hands where they were but rested his head on Akaashi's knee, his cheek pressed into the thin skin there.

"You taste amazing," he said, looking up at Akaashi.

The moon glowed like a halo behind him, bathed the bay window in cold white light. Akaashi softly stroked his hair, the motion soothing yet exhilirating.

"We should do that more often. Like, a lot more often! Why haven't we kissed before?" he asked, honestly.

Akaashi shrugged.

"You've never asked before."

Bokuto had to laugh at that. The answer was too simple, it couldn't have been that easy.

"Can I kiss you again?" he asked, adoring the way Akaashi's blush spread down to his throat. He felt the tiny hairs on Akaashi's lower back stand up under his touch, goosebumps spreading whenever he stroked the sensitive skin there.

He didn't get an answer. Akaashi just played with his hair, twirled the bleached tufts between his nimble fingers.  
Caught up in the serenity Bokuto let the question go unanswered. He leaned in to Akaashi's touch, relaxing his head against his leg.

He couldn't help asking again, though. Impatient by nature, Bokuto almost vibrated with anticipation. Akaashi's eyes were closed when he looked up at him again. Bokuto imagined the sorts of things that were going on within his cortex, meandering and burrowing through him like coral.

"Are you imagining verses?" he asked, curious.

"Hush, Bokuto-san," Akaashi softly stroked his temple.

"You feel the tranquilty? Immerse yourself in it."

Bokuto moved his head, gracing Akaashi's leg with his lips. He closed his eyes and kissed him on the thigh, smiling when he felt Akaashi slightly arch his back under his touch.

"I want to immerse myself in you." he said drunkenly, hugging Akaashi tighter.

He heard Akaashi chuckle and felt him lean down over him.  
Bokuto turned his head to look up at him, resting his chin on Akaashi's knee and his cheek against his thigh.

Akaashi pressed his lips against Bokuto's temple, quick and dry, but so soft it made Bokuto's eyelids flutter.

"I can smell your euphoria," Akaashi said, composure restored, dipping his head down to whisper in Bokuto's ear.

"It's heady. Thick with avidity, your desire running deep. I'm surprised you didn't act on it before. If all you wanted was a kiss, I would've given you one earlier."

The words he spoke and the sensation of his lips moving against Bokuto's earlobe was imposing, so overwhelming.

"Akaashi..." he sputtered the name inarticulately, whispering it once more under his breath.

"But you're drunk, so I won't indulge you any further. At least not tonight."

Bokuto laughed, face flushed, stomach giddy with butterflies.

"Drunk? On ginger tea?"

"Ginger tea and brandy. Plus whatever god-awful combination of alcohol you had before you came here." Akaashi reasoned.

"Would I be able to do this if I were drunk?"

He let go of Akaashi and got up in a languid manner from his spot on the cushion, posing with his usual theatrical inflection as he stood before Akaashi, the moon shining down on him like a spotlight projector. He cleared his throat and let the incense carry him, rode on the drowsy high as he started reciting a passage from a poem he knew was one of Akaashi's favourites.

Akaashi watched him, torso exposed, white as a moth. His steely eyes shone almost black as he listened to Bokuto soliloquize.

The verse ended with the mention of lisianthus and geraniums.  
Bokuto hadn't understood it the first time he had read it, and he still didn't understand it, but he saw how the words brought a dusted pink hue to Akaashi's cheeks, how he lifted his chin and tilted his head to the sound of Bokuto's voice.

"If I were drunk I would've stumbled all over that!" Bokuto exclaimed when he had finished, puffing out his chest.

He basked in the moonlight and smiled down at Akaashi, who had shifted into a different sitting position. He had unfolded his limbs and sat on his hands, feet planted on the light hardwood floors.

"Do you know what that poem is about?"

Bokuto shook his head, solicitous, sensing the sudden change of atmosphere. Akaashi got up from the daybed, crossing the distance between them in such an elegant manner, Bokuto heard himself utter a quiet 'how.'

"It talks about the joining of two people for a lifelong bond, and gentility," Akaashi said.

"There's a suggestiveness to it. Carnal. It's not a poem you recite to just anyone."

He reached out and touched Bokuto's neck, his fingers gracing the top of his spine while his other hand twisted into the soft material of Bokuto's worn shirt. The warm earthy scent of cedar washed over Bokuto when Akaashi nestled his head on his shoulder and kissed his jaw.

"I'm surprised you didn't know it. It carried well with your voice."

Akaashi seemed so nonchalant. Bokuto tried to contain himself, knew that if he didn't it would probably put Akaashi off.

"You can touch me, Bokuto-san," Akaashi said somewhat amused, as if he had read Bokuto's mind.

"As long as you aren't drunk enough to regret it in the morning." he added, eyes darting away from Bukoto for a second.

Bokuto linked his arms around Akaashi's waist, pushing them closer together. The silky kimono around Akaashi's hips tickled his wrists.

"I would never regret doing anything with you, Akaashi! You're so amazing, you could get away with anything."

Akaashi drew a horizontal line up Bokuto's torso with the tip of his finger, going over the collarbone and jugular until that hand reached the back of his neck as well, looping both of his arms around his neck.

Akaashi hugged him, lips pressed softly against his throat. Bokuto felt the electricity from the touch reach the pit of his stomach, spreading all throughout his chest.

The floor creaked under their weight when Akaashi shifted. He leaned up and looked Bokuto in the eye before he kissed him properly on the mouth.

It was a slow, sweet kiss.  
Soft and flavourful when they tasted each other, the tangy flavour of ginger and cognac mingling with their breaths.

Bokuto felt Akaashi's hands move from the base of his neck and up into his hair, grabbing at the tufts as he pressed closer into him.  
He reciprocated, tightening his grip around Akaashi's waist.  
Akaashi kissed him with more vigor. It left Bokuto overwhelmed and yearning for more, tugging at the fervor that burned inside of him.

When he pulled back it was to catch his breath. He rested their foreheads together, and felt Akaashi leave tender kisses on the side of his mouth.

"You should leave before dawn," Akaashi said. He trailed a finger down the slope of Bokuto's vertebrae.

"It's bad luck to let a lover spend the night."

"That's just something some lady-in-waiting said to an unappealing suitor." Bokuto said, pouting. He felt his dejected mode swallow him.

He slid down Akaashi's body and fell to his knees, keeping his arms wrapped around Akaashi's hips and pressed his cheek against his thigh. The kimono was stil askew from when he had pulled it down earlier. It's silky sleeves hung inelegantly down the sides of Akaashi's bare legs.

He listened to the delicate sound of rain beating down against the bay window. Akaashi's hands were playing with his hair, and he sighed dramatically, leaning into the touch.

"I can't believe I'm getting cock-blocked by someone from the Heian period." he said, sulking into the white kimono.

Akaashi chuckled above him and ran his fingers through his hair.

"There's still about an hour until sunrise," he said.

"If you let go of me and get up we could go to my bedroom and continue there."

Bokuto glanced up and saw the quiet desire that burned in Akaashi's eyes, like embers in a charred fire.

They went into the only other room in the apartment. Akaashi lead Bokuto into uncharted territory when he opened the door to his bedroom, setting the air between them ablaze when he closed it behind them.

Akaashi's hands were under his shirt the second Bokuto backed him up against the door. It was airglow fires and moonbeams, and Bokuto thought they fit together like magnets as he traced the ridge of Akaashi's collarbone with his lips.

 

* * *

 

The sun licked at the sky when Bokuto left the apartment complex at five hours into the morning. The warm rays spilled out over the horizon, painting it with a golden glow that Bokuto admired with a smile on his face.

He thought about the kind of flowers he would buy Akaashi the next time he visited as he turned into the opposite direction, walking toward his own apartment.

"Carnations." he said to himself, watching as the sunrise turned a rich phthalo blue.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm still very much a novice when it comes to writing, so any kind of feedback would be greatly appreciated!


End file.
